


See Ya Sucker

by irlmagicalgirl



Category: South Park
Genre: Crenny week 2018, M/M, and never have i ever, its a crenny fic but drunk kyle and stan are my fave part, its just cute and fluffy and a peak inside life, tbh there isnt a lot of plot to this, theres a party in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:03:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlmagicalgirl/pseuds/irlmagicalgirl
Summary: I reckon you grew up in a town that said ‘reckon’ all the timeAll your time so vile yet concreteAnd I heard little rumors here and thereLittle peeps that you may never leave--South Park kinda sucks. Craig wants to run away. Kenny wants to run away. And since Kenny is kinda sorta a little bit in love with Craig, why not go together?





	See Ya Sucker

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Crenny Week 2018!
> 
> So if you didn't know, (most of) my South Park fics are named after songs, open with lines from the song, and maybe even quote the song within the text. I'm tentatively calling these the Songs of South Park. Basically just little ficlets or one-shots or slice of life pieces inspired by songs that I think fit characters or the South Park mood. I don't always take the songs literally, but I do always make references to the lyrics here or there. Anyway, these fics don't always have a deep plot, but they are meant to evoke some emotion, and get you to associate the songs with South Park. So anyway, this one is See Ya Sucker by Modern Baseball. Go give it a listen before, during, or after this fic!

_I reckon you grew up in a town that said ‘reckon’ all the time_  
_All your time so vile yet concrete_  
_And I heard little rumors here and there_  
_Little peeps that you may never leave_  
  
\- See Ya, Sucker, Modern Baseball

oOo

            “Never have I ever…jacked off to the thought of one of my best friends.”

            Clyde smirked at the messy and drunken group of people he addressed, knowing that he had screwed over at least _one_ of them. Sure enough, Kyle suddenly burst out in uncontrollable laughter – he was definitely an “uncontrollable laughter” drunk – and finished off the beer in his hand while turning such a dark shade of red, his freckles no longer stood out. His guilt hardly came as a surprise to anyone, but Clyde puffed out his chest, rather proud of himself for knocking someone else out of the game.

            Completely unashamed and laughing nearly as hard, Stan looked at his best friend and point to himself.

            _Me?_ he mouthed, his giggles taking away all breath he would have used to say the word out loud. Kyle nodded, his laugh reaching the point of hysterical noiselessness as he fell on his back.

            “I’ll take this as my queue to leave,” Wendy said, straightening the wrinkles in her blouse as she stood up. She was one of the few that hadn’t gotten drunk from the game yet, which was a real shame. She had wanted to drink, and truthfully needed it, but her sensibility and long time (previous) commitment to Stan had restricted her mostly to a life of _never having ever_ done a lot of fucked up shit. In fact, it was her recent split with Stan that called for the party and the plan to get at least one of the two drunk. Stan was kind of doing just fine. In retrospect, perhaps they shouldn’t have invited them both to the same party to drink away their last feelings for each other. You couldn’t trust Clyde with these things all too often. He took any excuse for a party, break ups _and_ make ups, and sometimes even forgot to invite the guests of honor.

            “You sure, Wendy? We can stop playing and just…drink?” Bebe offered. _She_ had actually thought that Stan and Wendy being at the party together would help the situation and ease any future and awkwardness. That was before Stan and Kyle tickle-fought each other to the back porch. It was hard for any of them to pretend that they didn’t know _that_ was a major factor in the break up. But what could you do? It wasn’t like Wendy hadn’t seen it _months_ ahead of time. She’s the one who thought that an extra year or so would reel Stan’s attention back to her. It couldn’t be done. He still cared for her, but there were some things that just couldn’t be changed.

            “I’m sure,” Wendy said. “I just kind of…”

            “Wanna go home and watch Netflix?”

            “Yeah, basically.”

            Bebe looked back sympathetically to the group. She had no qualms whatsoever taking Wendy home, but she also usually had the best drinking game ideas and was good at being drunk and mediating simultaneously. Structure was going out the door along with the girls.

            “Next time, guys. You can throw my cat a birthday party next week. Come on, Wendy, you can stay at my place and borrow my sweats.”

            “I wanna borrow Bebe’s sweats,” Clyde mumbled.

            “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Craig asked.

            “I dunno. This party sucks now. We lost like, eighty percent of our players.”

            “We lost, like, two,” Kenny chuckled. “Kyle and Stan are still here, they’re just being dipshits.”

            “Yeah, well, we lost all of our girls. That might as well be eighty percent.” Clyde threw an empty solo cup at Kenny. “Why aren’t you drunk? What the hell? How have you even done that much stuff anyway?”

            Kenny looked around at his empty bottles. He had gone through the most during their game.

            “I have a high tolerance? And I don’t know, it must be poor people power or whatever.”

            “When the fuck were you even hit by lighting?” Token asked. “Wouldn’t that kill you?”

            Kenny shrugged. “You would think, wouldn’t you?”

            “You guys suck, you’re no fun.”

            “I am the most fun!” Kenny protested. “I’m the funnest! Where are you going?”

            “Gunna go find Kyle and Stan. At least they’re drunk and laughing.”

            “Dude, what if they’re making out?” Craig asked straight-faced. They supposed anything was possible, but that wasn’t likely to happen for at least several more weeks, if it were going to happen at all.

            “Good,” Clyde said. “Then I can film it and get famous.”

            “You’re a dick,” Kenny said, smirking and wondering if he might film his friends making out himself. He could find a way to get them to pay him to film it, probably, if he played his cards right.

            “And you’re _boring_ ,” Clyde slurred. He probably actually meant to address Craig and had already forgotten who it was that had insulted him. Sober, Clyde knew there was no party without Kenny, just like there was no party _structure_ without the girls. He just needed more to drink. Craig on the other hand _was_ being a little boring, but in his defense, the nonsensical party scene wasn’t where he really thrived anyway. His sarcastic wit failed to find favor with the drunk, more often than not. It was a shame. Kenny regarded it as his favorite kind of humor, next to the perverted as hell kind.

            Token followed Clyde outside, and when the back porch suddenly became the place to be, everyone else pretty much trickled out as well.

            “I guess we’re all that’s left,” Kenny said. He took the bottle that Clyde had left behind and drained it.

            “I guess. You’re not going to see what all the fuss is about?”

            “There’s no fuss,” Kenny said, flapping his hand around. “I spend, like, 200% of my time with those assholes.  I’ll know a fuss when I see it.”

            “Basically,” Craig said. “It’s cold as dicks anyway.”

            “Exactly! Cold as dicks. I knew I liked you, Craig.”

            Kenny knew he liked Craig _anyway_. Kenny knew he _loved_ Craig, actually. Even before he described the climate in a dickish manner. This entire exchange was really how Kenny knew the alcohol _was_ affecting him; the more he had started liked Craig, the harder he found it to speak around him. It was embarrassing, really, but those were the facts, and now here he was saying shit like _I knew I liked you_. God, how embarrassing. Thankfully, Craig didn’t take it as anything out of the ordinary.

            “Yeah? You’re pretty cool, too, McCormick.”

            There was a shout of excitement from some cockle of Kenny’s heart. _Pretty cool_ wasn’t so bad coming from Craig Fuck-You Tucker. He could work with _pretty cool_.

            It was hard for Kenny to pinpoint the exact moment that his interest in Craig went from curiosity to _take me now_ , but that moment _had_ gradually occurred over time. He wondered if it would have gotten to that level had he never known that Craig was queer. Kenny supposed it really didn’t matter. The fact of it was that he _did_ know that Craig was totally into dicks, and even the humans attached to them if fortune was in their favor (Offhandedly, Kenny wondered why Craig would describe the weather as being _cold as dicks_ , great as that had sounded. Kenny wondered if he was speaking from experience at all. Maybe he had actually come across someone with an especially cold one once. That didn’t sound pleasant.). Even if knowing that Craig was into dudes made Kenny fall for him more _was_ the case, it didn’t matter, because Kenny _did_ fall for him more. The reasoning didn’t mean much any longer.

            He kind of liked that it seemed like Craig didn’t care about shit, even though it was obvious that he did. Maybe he cared about things more than anyone else. He cared about art, and Kenny had always thought that was pretty cool. Art required emotion. Craig no longer had braces – they had been off for a few months now – but Kenny had always thought they had suited him. After his braces had come off, Kenny was happy that Craig’s teeth were still kind of unique because his canines were so short and sharp. It was kinda cute. He liked the shadows Craig had under his eyes and wondered what they were from. Was he born with them? Were they from lack of sleep? Did he depend on coffee too much? Was he like, anemic or something? Maybe they wasn’t the same kind of dark circle. In any case, it was a weird kind of sexy, just like everything else about him was. Weird sexy. That was a kind of sexy Kenny thought he could vibe with. He liked the obscure band t-shirts Craig would wear (especially because Kenny would memorize the band names and research them at home and find out that they were actually really good and cool and that Craig wore them because he probably genuinely liked their music and not just because he wanted to be a hipster). He liked that Craig was actually, like, the most hardcore person he knew because he would flip off _anyone_ , and there are just some people you don’t flip off. It was like Craig bit the bullet for everyone and just flipped authority off to represent the greater majority of his peers. Like, oh, shit, so-and-so’s mom is being a bitch again? Don’t worry, Craig can just flip her off and take care of it for all of us. Kenny liked that Craig called out his friends, too. It was all a hard job, but someone had to do it.

            Long story short, Kenny found Craig’s little nuances pretty sexy. Even his retainer, when he chose to wear it. It made his voice sound adorable. And his middle finger. It was long and actually pretty gorgeous, as fingers went. So it didn’t matter how much Craig’s gay tendencies affected Kenny’s crush. The crush would’ve fueled itself anyway. The gayness certainly helped, though. As gayness does.

            Except for the part where it made Kenny too nervous to speak to Craig normally. It didn’t help that. But the alcohol did. He couldn’t say it out loud, but even though the party hadn’t helped Wendy, it certainly helped _someone_.

            “Come on, let’s keep playing,” Kenny said.

            “Wh-who are you talking to?” Craig asked, looking around.

            “You, duh. You’re the only one here.”

            “Exactly. I’m the only one here. You can’t play with only two people.”

            “Wanna bet? Go ahead.”

            Craig rolled his eyes. “I reckon…you grew up in a town where everyone says _reckon_.”

            Kenny squinted at Craig. “…What the fuck? That’s not even how you format it. You're supposed to say  _never have I ever._ Besides, it has to be something _you_ haven’t done. We grew up in the same place. And you know everyone says _reckon._ You just said it.”

            “I didn’t grow up here,” Craig said blandly. “I grew up…on the moon. I’m an alien. I replaced the Craig you once knew.”

            “Man, you’re a weirdo,” Kenny said. _I love it_. “Space man Craig…”

            “Space man Craig. You need to drink, by the way.”

            “What? We both have done the thing, though.”

            “So? I’ll drink, too,” Craig said, taking a swig. “Here, have some of mine.”

            Kenny took a drink from Craig’s bottle, trying not to think about the fact that his saliva was probably mixing with Craig’s, nor the fact that he had drunk from Clyde’s bottle first.

            “This game sucks,” Craig said.

            “Well, you didn’t play it right. Maybe that’s why.”

            “No, it sucks because it makes you think you’re going to drink a lot, but it’s actually a plot to make you pace yourself. I mean, if you’re normal and haven’t done every damn thing under the sun. No offence, I guess.”

            “None taken. I drink for having jumped off a cliff with pride.”

            Craig shook his head, finishing the drink. Kenny felt a twitch in his pants, seeing Craig’s lips touch where his had just been. He heard the glass click softly against his teeth. He felt feverish suddenly and readjusted his pants when Craig wasn’t looking.

            “Wanna walk home with me?” Craig asked.

            “Wh-what?” Kenny said, caught off guard. It wasn’t like he had suddenly sobered up or anything, but there was just some stuff that alcohol couldn’t prepare you for. Simple as walking home was, Kenny had a hard time looking at Craig at the lunch table just two day previously.

            “Home. You wanna walk with me? I’m bored, I’m tired, and I’m not looking to get mugged on the way home, so you wanna go? We live kinda close to each other now. You’re not doing anything better.”

            It was true, he wasn’t, and he wasn’t in the mood to go see the fuckery on the back porch when there was a whole Craig asking to do something with him alone.

            “Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

            The walk home was cold and quiet, which Kenny had guessed it would be, but it wasn’t painful. It was just…kinda cool. The moon was bright enough to give them shadows, and Kenny couldn’t help but smile at how much smaller his was than Craig’s.

            “This town sucks,” Craig said, breaking the silence.

            “What makes you say that?” Kenny asked.

            Craig shrugged. “It just does. Don’t you agree?”

            That was Craig. Nothing had triggered the thought. He was just stating a fact for the sake of doing so. Something to talk about, since they had already discussed the weather and its complete dickliness.

            “Nah, I agree,” Kenny said. “Totally shit.”

            And it was. Aside from death, Kenny’s entire existence revolved around the idea of leaving South Park and how to do so. He liked a lot of the people, but South Park’s suckage outweighed that. If they liked him, they could come along, by all means. If not, fuck them. It wasn’t worth it. Even Craig, if Craig decided to be clingy to the town and its memories, but if he hated it, too, then maybe there was hope.

            “Is that why you said you were from the moon?” Kenny continued.

            Craig’s brow furrowed. “Yeah…want a cigarette?”

            Kenny took one and Craig lit them both. Kenny felt the twitch again. He always thought there was something really attractive about someone lighting your cigarette for you.

            “I said I’m from the moon because I feel like I’m from the moon, and I like that better than having to admit I was just born and raised here like a piece of shit. Like everyone else here. Again, no offence.”

            “It’s cool. I can be pretty shitty. What happened to the Craig you replaced?”

            “Huh?”

            “You said that you were from the moon and that you replaced the Craig that was here in your place.”

            “Oh. I don’t know. He was too innocent. He couldn’t hang. He didn’t know what was real. He faded from reality.”

            Kenny wasn’t sure why it made sense to him, but it did. He wondered if Craig wasn’t a little cross-faded, or if he was just feeling a little spacey in general. In any case, he kinda liked being in love with a man from the moon.

            “I wish I was from the moon,” Kenny said. “I don’t think I’m cool enough. Just a piece of shit. But I hope one day I can say I’m from somewhere cooler.”

            Craig nodded. “We can go live on the moon.”

            “Let’s build a whole space station.”

            “Let’s do it.”

            By that time, they had reached Craig’s house.

            “Thanks for walking home with me,” Craig said.

            “Anytime. See you later, yeah?”

            Kenny walked the rest of the way home, wondering if he should have told his friends he was living. They probably wouldn’t even notice his absence, pass out in the living room with everyone else, and text him in the morning. He wondered how long Clyde would keep a camera on Kyle and Stan, waiting for them to do something gayer than normal. It wasn’t gunna happen. Not any time soon. Clyde had a tendency to follow the wrong people with cameras. Kenny knew that Kyle liked Stan (which he had told him in exchange for Kenny telling Kyle that he liked Craig, even though he had already known about Kyle’s crush), but Stan was oblivious. Even after knowing that Kyle had jacked it to the thought of Stan. Totally clueless. And Stan wouldn’t do anything so soon after his break up with Wendy _anyway_ , drunk or not. But who would think to follow Craig and Kenny with a camera? Not that anything had happened there either, but they were probably technically gayer, if you could measure such a thing.

            When Kenny walked through his door and fell onto his bed, it wasn’t even midnight yet. A record. The things Craig got him to do. He wondered if he might actually fall asleep before 1 am on a Friday night. It might be possible. He felt a bit fuzzy and a bit like he was sinking into his bed. He wondered if Craig’s cigarettes had been laced with anything. That was also possible. He felt around for his phone which had fallen out of his pocket and landed somewhere in his sheets. Despite having already recounted to himself how Kyle and Stan would finish out the night, he was still a little offended that neither of them had texted him to see where he had gone.

            He scrolled down his contacts and found Craig’s name, which he had put dumb less-than-3 heart next to, even though they had never texted before. He felt bad that his phone wasn’t good enough to give Craig a real red heart emoji.

            Against his better judgment, and slightly fueled by alcohol (and perhaps further influences), he tapped out a quick “hey, sup” with a winking emoji and sent it to Craig, despite having just seen him moments ago. Kenny was disappointed at the lack of immediate response, though Craig seemed like the kind of guy who was both bad at keeping up text conversations _and_ the kind of guy who wouldn’t respond immediately on purpose. He also seemed like the kind of guy to fall asleep right when he said he was tired and going home to sleep. Probably not the best guy to text close to midnight, but whatever.

            Impatient, Kenny sent him a second text.

 **To: Craig <3  
** _hey lets run away from SP tomorrow_

            That was normal, right? That was okay. Craig hated South Park. Craig wanted to leave. Kenny crossed his fingers and fell asleep waiting for Craig to respond.

            He was jolted awake by his phone vibrating. Was it always that aggressive? His head hurt a little as he rose and read the text message with one eye open.

 **From: Craig <3  
** _Sure. What time?_

            Kenny sat up on his elbows, both eyes open now. He took a moment to appreciate the fact that Craig texted with proper grammar before allowing the shock to set in that Craig was actually _agreeing_. There was also the fact that Craig had _just now_ responded, clearly having fallen asleep the night before. He still wanted to go after a night of rest. Kenny looked at the time. A little past 8. Damn, that had been a decent night of sleep. Count on Craig to get him in bed at an appropriate hour.

 **To: Craig <3  
** _meet me by starks @ 9:30?_

            Kenny was now fully awake and alert now, waiting for Craig’s reply. This was wild. This was insane. He was sober now. He was –

 **From: Craig <3**  
_Okay. See you._

            He exhaled. There was good chance that, now that he was totally sober, he wouldn’t know how to talk to Craig anymore. And they were running away. At least that was the plan. What if they decided to run away to, like, California? A place with sun where it never snowed and no one said _reckon_ at all, ever? Then they would have to think about enough stuff to talk about all the way to California. Kenny’s heart rate picked up. Why did his drunk self have to think up such an ambitious first date? Shouldn’t he have asked Craig to like, go to McDonald’s or something first?

            He grabbed his backpack, tossed out all the school papers from it, and stuffed all of his underwear into it and two extra shirts. In the kitchen, he dumped in a whole box of Pop-tarts, paused, and then took one out and decided to leave it behind for Karen. He also tossed in the one Cup of Noodles they had left. Gas Stations and stuff had hot water, didn’t they? He stopped by the bathroom and tossed in his toothbrush and a bar of soap as well.

            He thought for a second about actually peeking his head in to say goodbye to Karen, but the thought of having to do that made him hate himself a little and consider staying, so he forget about it and walked out the door instead.

            The walk to the pond seemed too short and the wait for Craig seemed too long. Kenny tried not to think too hard about running away and leaving everyone without saying goodbye, and he tried twice as hard not to think about how he would handle doing so with Craig. It wasn’t exactly something his drunk brain had put a lot of thought into. The logic of it all rested entirely on the fact that Craig had said he wanted to leave.

            Starting to worry that Craig wasn’t coming at all as it neared 9:30, Kenny’s eyes were drawn to a nearby brick building covered in graffiti. It was a building that had been abandoned for some time, so naturally it had become a canvas for delinquents. It was far enough out of the way of town that no one really cared to clean it up, especially since everyone knew it would go immediately back to shit anyway. So it stayed. A kind of statue near the pond to commemorate wild youth, complete with the ever lingering scent of weed. Kenny had contributed more than once to the wall, and much of his work had been painted on top of by other tags and crude pieces. There was no way he could pick out all of the work he had done on the building, but his eyes were drawn to one particular piece of his own – an anonymous declaration of love to Craig Tucker. He had done it one night, after an emotional rant to Kyle about his crush, and Kyle had helped boost him up so that he could paint the declaration too high to be painted over. If Craig had ever noticed it, he didn’t talk about it. There were plenty of confessions of love and initials drawn into hearts all over the building. Still, none stood out as much as his own, Kenny thought.

            “Good morning.”

            Kenny nearly fell off the bench he was sitting on and turned around.

            “Christ, a little warning, huh?”

            “That _was_ my warning,” Craig said, taking a seat next to Kenny.

            They both stared at the pond for a while without speaking. How exactly does one start to run away? Kenny stole a glance at Craig to see what he had brought for the long journey.

            “Uh, Craig?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Where’s, uh, all your stuff? Like, for survival.”

            “Oh. Yeah. I’m not going.”

            Kenny’s heart sank a little, despite having had some feeling this might happen, and despite _not_ knowing how to leave and where to go to.

            “I came out here because I was afraid you were serious and that even if I said no, you might try to run away by yourself. So I came to stop you.”

            “Oh,” Kenny said. His heart ached a little, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he was being made to stay in South Park, or because Craig wasn’t going anywhere with him. Or perhaps the third possibility; Craig cared enough to get up early in the morning and walk all the way out here to get him to stay. Because he _wanted_ Kenny to stay. At least, that’s what Kenny was letting himself think.

            “I know I said I hated it here, or whatever,” Craig said. “And I do. I fucking hate it here. And I do want to leave. But that doesn’t mean I – we – can just… _go_. I mean, there’s shit to take care of, y’know? I have a little sister. _You_ have a little sister. And I know you don’t ever talk about it, but I know you do a shitton for her. How do you think she’s gunna get on without you?”

            Kenny bit the inside of his cheek. Somehow, Craig had known his exact weakness and lunged straight for the jugular. What a beautiful asshole he was. He had a point. Kenny supposed that, deep down, he was never _really_ going to get anywhere. Not just then, anyway.

            “Just because you’re not leaving now doesn’t mean you never will. Just…I don’t know, get your affairs in order or whatever they say.”

            “Yeah. Yeah I know,” Kenny said.

            “Where were you planning for us to go anyway?” Craig asked, peering at Kenny’s backpack.

            “I dunno. Like California, I guess?”

            Craig snorted. “ _California_ _?_ Fuck, what did you pack?”

            Kenny handed the backpack to Craig, which he opened and began to rifle through. “Oh my _God_ , you only brought four Pop-tarts and a Cup of Noodles?”

            “Well, yeah,” Kenny said. “That’s just like, for the walk to California. And then I thought we’d just get more food there.”

            Craig started laughing, more than he even had at the party the night before. “The _walk_? Do you have like, _any_ sense of time or geographical distance…at all?”

            “Well, I’ve been to exactly zero locations, so…pretty much no. I don’t.”

            “Goddamn, well, it’s a good thing I came to get you, then. Anyway, I couldn’t have let you go off on your own. I would have missed you too much.”

            Kenny felt the back of his neck and ears heating up. This had never happened with anyone else before. Kenny didn’t even know he had the capability of blushing before he had started falling for Craig.

            “You – really?”

            “Yeah. I told you. You’re pretty cool. I don’t know a whole lot of pretty cool people.”

            Kenny swallowed hard. Never too late to have a change of plans.

            “Do you…like…wanna have a picnic or something.”

            Craig turned and looked at Kenny with narrowed eyes. “A… _picnic?_ Like…right now?”

            “Yeah.”

            “It’s 9:30 in the morning.”

            “A breakfast picnic, then. Come on, I have Pop-tarts.”

            Craig looked from Kenny, to the open backpack, and back to Kenny before shrugging.

            “Okay, then. Sure. Where?”

            Kenny picked up his backpack and led Craig to a patch of grass near the graffitied brick building.

            “Here is good,” he said, and handed Craig his own package of Pop-tarts. “Have you ever painted anything on here?”

            Craig looked it up and down, as if it were his first time seeing it. “No…I’m too lazy to come all the way out here for that.”

            Kenny shrugged. That was valid enough for him. He pointed about all the paint.

            “That’s one of mine.”

            Craig’s eyes followed Kenny’s pointing finger. “Which one? You need to be more specific, there’s like ten thousand tags.”

            “The one with your name on it,” Kenny said. “ _I love Craig Tucker._ ”

            “You’re shitting me,” Craig said. “Clyde told me that was up there. I just figured he put it up there as a joke. And all this time, it was _you_ that put it up there as a joke.”

            Kenny shoved a piece of Pop-tart in his mouth. Suddenly, he didn’t feel scared anymore. Maybe it was the eternal cloud of pot smoke. Maybe it was Craig’s _pretty cool_. Maybe it was cheap frosting. In any case, he had gained a sudden rush of confidence and he was running with it.

            “Nah,” he said. “I mean, yeah, it was me this whole time. But it’s not a joke. I really do love Craig Tucker.”

            Craig stared at him, his own pastry not having reached his mouth yet. “I – but…when?”

            It wasn’t the question Kenny had expected first, but he could work with it. “I dunno, the night I spent the night at Kyle’s and ranted about my pathetic crush on you. He told me painting this would be good for me or something.”

            Craig’s mouth gaped open lightly. “I – oh.”

            “Is that all you have to say?” Kenny asked, feeling his neck grow warm again, confidence depleting. “Because I’d really appreciate a little more.”

            Craig shut his mouth, his cheeks starting to turn red. At the very least, Kenny found comfort in the fact that Craig’s blushing was up front and visible.

            “I’ve…I’ve never…I’ve never been more glad that something _wasn’t_ a joke.”

            Kenny’s head shot up, eyes widening. “Wait, really?”

            “Well, yeah, really.”

            “So _pretty cool_ is Tucker language for, like, fucking amazing?” Kenny asked, pushing his courage.

            “I guess, if you wanna put it like that,” Craig said. He added a shy smile – Kenny didn’t think he had ever seen Craig smile shyly – and suddenly took Kenny’s fingers in his hand. “Thanks.”

            “For what?”

            “For painting that up there, I guess. And for not running away.”

            “Thanks for coming to get me,” Kenny said.

            “We’ll leave sometime,” Craig said. “Just not when we have sisters to take care of and Pop-tarts to eat. Fuck, plus, now that I know that declaration for me up there is legit, I kinda wanna stick around and appreciate it a little more. It makes the town less…fucked up.”

            “I think so, too.”

            “We’ll get out someday,” Craig said. Kenny had underestimated the boy’s ability to be soft. It made his heart ache again.

            “Together?”

            “I think I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> See, there was nothing to it. I just thought of pieces of this fic while listening to the song See Ya Sucker and decided to add it to the Songs of South Park. Other pieces of this collection include Twin Sized Mattress, Sloppy Seconds, and Synesthesia, so please go check them out, too! This isn't a series, so all the Songs of South Park fics can be read as stand alones. Sloppy Seconds is also Crenny, and also the most popular. My fic Sugar & Spice is Crenny as well, but it is a full length 10 chaptered piece and isn't related to this collection.  
> Should I put the Songs of South Park in an actual collection here on Ao3, or do you think they're fine as they are? I kinda wanna keep them together like that, but I don't want anyone to think they're sequels or anything.
> 
> ANYWAY, yeah. This one was kinda basic. Not much to it. But I think it's kinda cute, and I did want to contribute something new for Crenny week instead of just using my already existing stuff.
> 
> ( I also have ideas for more Front Bottoms songs and Brand New songs, but I'm working on my 5th book rn and I'm usually pretty busy so we'll see how that goes)


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